


Whispers

by mac23



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, IWA GREW TALLER, Iwa lost his memory, M/M, OIKS IS THE SHORT ONE NOW, Oikawa is a recovering alcoholic, Past Relationship(s), Ushijima is his childhood friend, a brief inquiry into god, and a blessing, and then Iwa's, model!Oikawa, oikawa's pov, oiks is his last hope, we love Ushijima
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:37:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mac23/pseuds/mac23
Summary: After so many years have passed, Oikawa sees Iwaizumi again and adds more sorrows to his list of ones to drown in a bottle.Meanwhile, Iwaizumi tries to find out who he once was.It's a shit description but I put my heart into the story, I promise :^)





	1. Aftertaste

When exactly had drowning his sorrows in a warm bottle of cheap corner store bourbon wormed its way into his daily routine? It was hard to pinpoint—must have been some time after high school. He had taken those ugly, god forsaken years and locked them in a box so deep inside his mind that it would be a pain in the ass to open up even if he wanted to remember. Of course, it had a failsafe— an abhorrent failsafe.

One face.

One face was all it took to send all the exhausting nights, tear stained sheets, and the countless hours spent staring blankly at white washed walls—one face, to send it all chasing after every last bit of his consciousness, compacting it down leaving him smaller than before. He had never been someone to wither away so easily, that he could remember. And now, he was a pile of dull flesh held together by a façade.

The recently opened bottle was empty now, like so many others that preceded it. He wanted more, but after his Pandora’s box had been opened, sorrow wrought havoc on his intoxicated body. He himself, ever so fragile and numb, began to slip through the fingers of his consciousness, bleeding into nothing. Where did he end and the bare wooden floors begin?

With the final wave of alcohol consuming his mind, that face, clearer than it had any right to be, was stealing his air. It hung beautiful yet sullen against the mirrored white washed walls in his mind. Oh, how much he longed to feel their mixed breaths brush lightly against his nose; how he longed to see those deep brown eyes focusing on him; how he longed to even speak to him once more. There were many things he wanted back, and the regret flooded his lungs, threatening to break the dam. It had never before managed to overflow, but certain events made for a heavier forecast than he could possibly hope to suppress.

There was a loud banging on the door but he had no desire to crawl out of the hole he had dug for himself; though, however deep he may have dug himself before his shovel could go any further, someone was determined to pull him out.

The words blurred together and this person was much too quiet. Was he responding properly? He couldn’t tell—his own words were heavily muffled. There were hands underneath his arms, dredging him from the floor, pulling him into the bathroom. 

Now dusk is turning to dawn and the brunt of it is lost in translation. Moments punctuated by long periods of absences lead him through the shadow of the morning, laying clean in his own bed, with a familiar face sleeping in the chair in the corner. His head is pounding, but he’s not a man to care about such minute things any more, a trait that came with the alcoholism.

“ ‘toshi, what are you doing here?” 

The sun spilled through the slits in the blinds, at an angle that suggested after noon had descended.

“what fucking time is it anyway?”

Proud red numbers danced along the clock face, annoying the shit out of him. The man in the corner was still asleep, awoken only by a pillow to the face. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Tooru.”

He massaged his temples and leant forward in the chair, hands clasping together, face contorted in intricate frowns.

“Do you want to tell me what the fuck that was last night?”

Oikawa ran his hands through his hair and yawned, facial expression null. 

“What do you mean?”

Those intricate frowns became ever more intertwined as a myriad of emotions danced across his face before it settled upon anger.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I come to see you and after walking through a literal open door, one that shouldn’t be open, mind you, I find you half-naked, completely wasted on your living room floor clinging to an empty bottle of bourbon. I bathe you and clean up the damn place and you’re going to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Now, Ushijima was pacing at the end of the bed.

“It’s nice to see you, too, ‘toshi.”

“Yeah, well, your manager called me after you didn’t show up to work for two days straight. I’m touched that you listed me as your emergency contact, truly, but this is not how I wanted to see you after all these years.”

“How long has it been anyway? five years? six? I don’t know, I lost track.”

“That’s not exactly my primary concern, Tooru. I want to know when you started drinking like this.”

“That’s none of your concern either.”

Oikawa rose from the bed, stumbled and caught himself on the end of the nightstand. He waded into the kitchen with a seething Ushijima in tow.

“Like hell it’s none of my concern— your fridge is nearly empty and your cabinets are full of liquor. I think I deserve to know what’s going on, especially after last night.”

“I saw him again.”

Silence ensued as Oikawa bared his back to Ushijima, attempting to hide his shuddering shoulders.

“I saw him again. He was with a woman. He looked so happy.”

Ushijima stood in the quiet, breath hitched on his tongue. Out of all the things Oikawa could have said, this was the least expected.

“She was beautiful—long brown hair, manicured nails, perfect fucking posture. All I could think about last night was her. My mind played her wretched smile in my head over and over again and all I could hear were his whispers when they’re fucking and I drank away her perfect face until all I could see was him. And then I drank some more when I realized I could never be enough for him. I doubt he even remembers me.”

Ushijima stepped to and pulled Oikawa into his arms, warmth surrounding the crying man.

“I didn’t think I had any tears left to fucking cry but then he goes showing his face halfway across the country after so many years.”

Crying turned into sobbing.

“I’m still in love with him.”

Sobbing turned to heaving.

“I still love him so fucking much.”


	2. One More Time

Over takeout that Ushijima was forcing Oikawa to eat, they talked and the details of his drinking habits surfaced. The model business, as it turns out, was a lot unhealthier than it seemed to be. His stunning looks took him about as far as they could go, before sleeping your way up the ladder became one of the only ways to advance his career. He tried to stay clear of all the parties and the drugs but found himself reluctantly accompanying some old, fat CEO just to stay ahead of the game. He had no problem avoiding the drugs, but as fate would have it, the bottle became his best friend.

He drank to forget the ache in his body; he drank to forget the feeling of being touched by all those who had no right to it; he drank to forget what a fucking nightmare his whole life was now. He drank because he was too ashamed to come to terms with how dissonant the face in the mirror had become.

Ushijima silently listened, wordless and stern in his support. He had known Oikawa since childhood, but could barely recognize the man before him. Volleyball and confidence were once the two pillars that held Oikawa Tooru standing tall. Now alcohol is the only buffer between Oikawa and the shit-stained world around him. It was unclear just how Oikawa hadn’t had any organ failure yet, but Ushijima was thankful that hadn’t happened before he arrived.

“I’m getting you some help, Oikawa”

He tried to be as objective and supportive as he could, and kept his tone neutral so as not to set off his longtime friend.

“I don’t want it,” he sighed through his teeth and got up to put the leftovers in the fridge.

“Tooru, listen to me. This isn’t healthy. You need to see someone and you need to get help. I’ve seen my father drink himself into a stupor and that’s not what I want for you.”

“Well, what about what I want?”

“And what is it that you want?”

“I want to forget, ‘toshi. It was brief, but it was so much more than you’d understand. I thought I was going to spend my life together with him. And now things will never return to how they were and I’d just like to fucking forget.”

“You’ll never be able to forget, you know that. But this is destructive. Just go to a therapist. Just one visit. After that, you can decide to not go if you don’t want to anymore.”

Oikawa observed the genuine concern in Ushijima’s eyes and gave in to the proposition.

“Fine, I’ll go one time. I need to call my manager.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Ushijima sat in the parking lot, thanking all the gods for heated seats. It was freezing this time of year, and the snow fell heavier and faster than the defrosters could melt it. Oikawa was supposed to be done soon and he had gotten there early to make sure Oikawa didn’t run off afterwards. He truly wanted to help his friend because watching him spiral like this was painful. Had he known about the situation sooner, he would have dropped everything just to be there for him. 

It’s been two days since he picked him up off of the cold wooden floors and nursed him back to sobriety and he was worried about what might happen to Oikawa if he were to leave right away. As far as he knew, Oikawa didn’t really have anyone else to turn to.

A familiar brown crown emerged from the large building and ducked his head to keep the snow out of his eyes. Ushijima pulled in front of the building and opened the door for him from the inside.

“Fuck it’s fucking cold.”

“I told you to grab a hat.”

“Yeah well I didn’t wanna ruin my hair. I don’t even have one anyway.”

“Why not? Don’t you have this weather every winter?”

“I go where the bourbon is, and coincidentally, that’s not outside. I stopped going to bars years ago. Too many people and too many mishaps. I got roofied like five times.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve been roofied, too. Nasty shit, innit?”

“wait, someone tried to roofie _you_? You’re like 6’3”, 200 pounds.”

“Yeah, it didn’t exactly work because my metabolism was a little higher than he had bargained for. I only realized when I asked the bartender for another drink and that one was significantly less salty than the other one. You should have seen the look on the dude’s face.”

Ushijima laughed in that deep voice of his and pulled into the parking lot of a western restaurant.

“Come on, my treat.”  
\------------------------------------------------

 

“So, what did you talk about with the therapist?”

“Eh, just some general stuff—my career, my family, my friends.”

They were seated in the far back corner of the dimly lit restaurant. It was small, but quaint. The staff were polite and the service was speedy. They were served only ten minutes after ordering.

“Oh yeah, how are your parents doing? I haven’t talked to them in quite some time.”

“I don’t know how they’re doing. They kicked me to the curb when I told them I was gay. I haven’t talked to them since. Only one who still talks to me is Takeru.”

“Oh shit, I almost forgot about the little squirt. He still playing volleyball?”

“Yeah his team made it to Nationals last year. Can you believe he’s taller than me now?”

“And I’m sure he’s a much better setter, too.”

Oikawa frowned and slipped a small _hey, rude_ between his puffed-up cheeks. 

“I’m kidding, you were a fantastic setter.”

“I know. But my knee just had to ruin damn near everything and my parents refused to help me with the treatment.”

The mood of the conversation turned sour again. He hated talking about his parents because it put a damper on things, without fail.

“It’s fine, though. I got a modeling job and now my knee is functioning well enough.”

“How did you get into modeling?”

Oikawa looked down into his food and smiled reminiscently. 

“In high school, Iwa suggested that I model one day since I care about my appearance so much. It’s all I had left of him to turn to after the whole ordeal went down. Turns out it was just as shitty as every other option had been.”

“I see. Are you going to continue modeling?”

“I don’t have any other way to pay the bills so probably. I dropped out of college after all, I doubt anyone else would hire me.”

“You never know, Tooru.”

They ate in silence, and the bill came and went. The car ride home was just as silent and it was only when they settled in for the night that Oikawa spoke again.

“I think I’ll go see that old lady again. It felt good to talk about stuff.”

Ushijima nodded silently before the lights went out and Oikawa went back to his bedroom, leaving the taller man to his own devices in the living room.


	3. The Next Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmmmmm don't you love those creative sprees you get that allow you to write like a dozen straight chapters after going months without any inspiration at all?????
> 
> great, well I sure do. anyway, here's another chapter <<<<33333

“Why do you think you drink?”

The older lady was sitting cross-legged, asking questions only objective in nature. She neither judged him nor misrepresented her intentions, she merely wanted to get the whole picture. Oikawa could respect that, yet he hated having to think about anything remotely in the direction she was leading him.

“I don’t know. It just makes me feel better.”

“And are you always feeling bad? Is that why you constantly feel the need to drink?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a need.”

He wasn’t lying—he was being completely honest with himself. He turns to the bottle because he wants to, not because he needed to. He could turn to drugs or sex or just about anything else, it’s just that alcohol slowed time down and gave him the chance to come to terms with the horror that is his life.

“It just helps me more than anything else. I don’t have anyone I can turn to anymore and the bottle is always there.”

“Well what about your friend, the one that brought you here? The one we talked about yesterday?”

“He probably won’t stick around, no one really does.”

“Do you want him to stay, Oikawa?”

“I mean, even if I did, I don’t see why he would stay just for me.”

“It sounds like you’ve been through this before.”

“I have.”

Oikawa cut his sentence prematurely before letting out things he wouldn’t be able to take back.

“Oikawa, you know that I’m not here to judge. It’s okay to speak freely here. Whatever you say will stay right here with me.”

“I loved someone once. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else. I mean I still love him but it’s different than it was before. Now it’s all just bitterness and jealousy. He left because of me—I wasn’t good enough for him. I couldn’t be what he really wanted—a woman.”

“Do you love your friend this same way?”

“Oh no, he’s just my childhood friend. Last time I checked his facebook, he’s engaged. Yeah, he’s straight. Besides, I never saw him that way. For me, it was only Iwaizumi.”

“And Iwaizumi was this person that you speak of?”

“Yeah, I’ve also known him forever, since we were still in diapers.”

Oikawa was lost in his thoughts, reliving distant memories, sorrow setting in his features.

“Let’s talk about something else instead, no? I want to hear about your job.”

He laughed a small, cynical laugh and brushed his hair from his face. He wasn’t sure what the old woman was expecting but things were just going to keep getting worse no matter what she inquired about. How was she going to react to finding out he sleeps with grimy, nasty men just to keep his job?

“There’s nothing much to it, I go in and take pictures and bang a designer or a photographer just to get my next job.”

“Do you willingly consent to these acts?”

“I mean, it’s not like I have much choice. I don’t have any other way to pay rent or feed myself. There’s always someone younger and prettier that comes along and everyone loves reminding me of that. I—I have to do it to keep modeling.”

Tears welled up in his eyes. He felt so dirty and used in that moment, sitting beneath the gentle gaze of the old woman. He was so ashamed of himself and the words that left his mouth. After leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands to hide the streaks on his face.

“We can talk about this in a later session, if you’re not ready. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”

She let Oikawa collect himself and offered a tissue. 

“Let’s end there for today. Are you available this Friday? I’d like to see you again, that afternoon.”

Oikawa nodded wordlessly and accepted the business card that sported the name of the practice and the therapist, as well as their next meeting time.

 ----------------------------------------

Oikawa fiddled with his hair as he watched the evening news. Ushijima hadn’t returned yet from wherever he had run off to, but Oikawa was content with being patient. He knew Ushijima would return at some point.

In that moment, Ushijima returned with a ridiculous amount of grocery bags in his arms.

“What is all this? Why didn’t you tell me you went shopping? I’ll go down and grab the rest.”

“No need. This is all.”

Oikawa counted two dozen bags—a few looked quite heavy. He briefly remembered a young, prepubescent Ushijima standing triumphantly in the kitchen bragging to his mother about how strong he was and that two trips were for the weak. Laughter erupted from Oikawa who clutched his stomach and threw his head back.

“You’re still a kid— _‘two trips are for the weak’_ ” he mocked in Ushijima’s childhood tone.

Ushijima laughed with him before tossing him a jug of milk to put in the fridge.

“You finally laughed.”

A small smile blessed his face, and Oikawa couldn’t help himself but to smile, too.

“Thank you, Ushijima.”

It had been nearly a month since Oikawa had taken an oath of sobriety and began seeing the therapist twice a week. AA meetings were going well for him, too. He was a few days away from his thirty-day chip. 

“Hey, tell me about your fiancée.”

Ushijima was caught off guard by the question. He had avoided mentioning her before because he didn’t want to create any tension but he supposed it was okay to talk about her now, considering Oikawa asked.

“Her name is Manako Kairi. She was born in Hokkaido but lived in the states most of her life. I met her at a mixer my coworkers invited me to. It turns out she’s the daughter of our rival’s CEO. As fate would have it, her father disapproved of our relationship. He didn’t believe I wanted nothing to do with inheriting his company so I started my own to prove him wrong. It’s small, but Kai is an excellent finance manager. We’re doing a lot better than I thought we would.”

“Holy shit, you’re a CEO now? That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you. What is the business for again?”

“It’s a design company for green products. We work on greening current structures and designing new ones from the ground up.”

Oikawa enjoyed listening to his friend talk about his life. He lived vicariously through his every word, imagining he was in his shoes. The cleanliness and serenity of it all brought him some peace of mind.

“Speaking of which, I talked to Kai, and I need to return soon for a conference.”

All enjoyment slipped from his face, the hole in his heart deepening once again. In the end, every one leaves. Why had he let himself hope? He knew this man had a life of his own, yet he still hoped he’d stay, at least for a little while longer. 

“I want you to come with me.”

“Wait, what? You want me to come with?”

“Yes. Quit modeling and come home to Tokyo with me. Kai already put you on the payroll as a design apprentice and we set up our guest bedroom for you until you’re on your feet. It’s not much, but at least with this, I can help in some way.”

A single tear rolled down his pale cheeks, as the rollercoaster of emotions looped around and left his stomach fluttering. Maybe he needed to reconsider his opinion about everyone leaving.

He agreed to the offer, forgetting for the moment that this would increase the chances he’d see Iwaizumi again. Right now, he was working on himself, and as fate would have it, it blessed him with the chance of storing Iwaizumi back into the box until he was ready to open it again. He felt stronger than before and decided he was ready to take the next step.


	4. Do You Know Who I Am?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TWIST FUCKERS

It was that damn face—simultaneously the pinnacle of his desires and the utter chasm of his demise. Just seeing it was enough to stun him in the moment. Just as he had finally settled back into Tokyo and managed a seemingly normal routine, that face had to bring it all crashing down.

It was only two months since Ushijima had asked him to come back with him and he was now comfortable in his job, his bed, his skin, and his life. Work was a little daunting at first, but he recently settled into the rhythm of it. Expectations never run dry, but he was refreshed and eager to please. He was thankful he didn’t have to fuck some no-name designer for his next meal. A few more months and he would be signed on as a junior consultant, a promotion that would afford him an apartment in a nearby complex. 

With the shaky first steps out of the way, he worked AA meetings and appointments with a new therapist into his schedule. The sessions were a lot more beneficial than he had initially though. All skepticism went right out the window, replaced by regret that he hadn’t started talking to someone sooner. 

At night, when he showered, he no longer felt the need to scrub his skin raw. His hands no longer bled from excessive cleaning, and his hair was starting to regain its former shine. It had been a very long time since he thought he looked decent. After all this time, the mirror was on his side again. His figure was returning to normal—emaciated features were a thing of the past and full meals no longer disagreed with him.

Oikawa never though that only three months of sobriety would make him feel like a new man. There was still progress to be made, but he was grateful to have Ushijima and Manako in his life. Loving and accepting friends hadn’t exactly been commonplace in the last five years, what with the massive distance he put in between himself and the rest of the world. 

Twenty-five years of age, a recovering alcoholic, and a budding flower—these were the most prominent characteristics of the man named Oikawa Tooru. And all he wanted was to continue to climb the stairs of the hole he had dug for himself. He had expected obstacles but didn’t expect he’d turn back up—not yet.

“Too..ru?”

The sound of his name coming from the mouth of the only man he has ever loved was the same sound of his heart shattering into indiscriminate pieces. 

Oikawa looked like a deer in headlights, desperate for an escape. 

“Wait, do I know you? Were we friends?”

Time stood still for the budding flower, and the words trudged through the quicksand consuming his mind. How was he supposed to respond to these words? All the scenarios he could imagine at night when he lay awake by himself could have never prepared him for this one. So, he did the only thing he could think of: he ran. He picked his feet up, over and over again, the flat ground spanning beneath him as his aching legs carried him as far as they could. The air around him seemed so thick, bellowing in and out of his swollen lungs. As fate would have its wicked way, the bright lights of a downtown bar blared in his face. It was one thing after another tonight and his 3 month chip weighed heavy in his pocket. The neon lights started to spin and every noise blurred together. His chest constricted tighter and tighter, still. 

Fumbling for his phone in his jacket proved fruitful when the sleek black surface lit up to show missed calls from Ushijima. He clicked the redial button and tried his best to slow his breathing, but the hyperventilation did not cease.

“ _Hello? Tooru? Are you alright? Hey, hey breathe just breathe. Where are you? I’m going to come get you. Share your location with me._ ”

Oikawa did as he was told and waited for the familiar SUV to round the corner. Hard breathing turned into irregular shaking as he crouched against the wall of the bar.

“Tooru, hey, come on. Let’s go home.”

Suddenly, Ushijima was helping him to the car. The familiar smell of his cologne graced Oikawa’s nose, and the warmth of the heated seat brought him back down to earth. His comfort levels returned to normal with every mile they drove. Destination: home.

 ------------------------------------------

“You saw him again, didn’t you?”

Ushijima woke him up the next morning with Manako’s special home-made breakfast and some ibuprofen. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, and it took extra effort to take it easy on the food. 

Oikawa wordlessly nodded and drank down the medicine, longing for the moment it would abate his headache. His legs still hurt and every breath set off the remnant strain in his abused lungs. He couldn’t possibly remember the last time he sprinted anywhere.

“He saw me outside the convenience store on my way back. He called out to me, asked me if he knew me and if we were ever friends. I ran after that, and before I knew it, I was in front of a bar.”

“Did you have a drink?”

“No, no… I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to – I just wanted to go home and then I couldn’t breathe and then the world was spinning.”

“it’s okay, it’s okay. I believe you. How about this: take the day, and go see your therapist, okay?”

“Thank you, ‘toshi. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused these last few months, especially last night.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Tooru. You’ve been my friend since we were little. Not once have you ever been a burden. Don’t be afraid to call on me when you need me, ‘cause I know you’d do the same for me.”

Oikawa was never a religious man, but these sweet words of absolution meant more to him than any holy word ever could. Briefly, he wondered where he would be now if Ushijima hadn’t found him when he did; then, he decided that maybe this was the work of some higher power. 

And if it were? Would that mean that this god was testing him somehow? But what lesson, if any, could this constant reminder of his life’s greatest mistake teach him? At the same time though, it could explain away the cavalry coming exactly when he needed it. And, it could explain the mercy and blessings he’s been shown since Ushijima took it upon himself to guide Oikawa’s recovery. Without him, recovery would have been a distant dream. Is this god’s work?

In that moment, Oikawa decided he’d like to believe that Ushijima was helping him out of the kindness of his heart, not at the behest of some higher power. That was good enough for him for now.


	5. More Questions Than Answers

The reality of his life had never weighed on him heavily—in fact, he had never once felt to urge to complain. Sure, it was the equivalent of dropping acid and then trying to navigate a never ending staircase, but he bought the acid and it was his stairs he was trying to navigate. He had nobody but himself to blame, and he thoroughly believed that from day one up until Ushijima snatched him up from that dump of an apartment. Yet, he never once complained.

This was a hell he didn’t deserve, though. Even more so, it was a hell he wasn’t to blame for.

It’s been three days since he ran into Iwaizumi in front of that convenience store, and he’s been seeing him ever since. Every day like clockwork, Iwaizumi walks into the building and asks the receptionist for Oikawa. Receptionist says he’s not in, Iwaizumi leaves, and Oikawa reads the note he left. It’s the same thing every time.

_Rou’s Café, 4:30pm_

The café was right around the corner. He knew how to get there, but every day he walked right past the alley, making note of his pale reflection in the windows of passed shops. There was no way he could face him, not after everything that happened. What was he supposed to say to him? Would Iwaizumi be mad at him? Question after question raced through his mind. It was enough mental strain to exhaust his body. He felt as though he just finished a three-day round-robin volleyball tournament with Tokyo’s best. 

It was the fourth day that really struck a chord with him. The note wasn’t the usual note. A small please was tacked on the end of this one. Oikawa could see the desperate look on Iwaizumi’s face as he handed the receptionist the note. With the gentle coercion of his therapist and the guilty feeling of dodging Iwaizumi all this time, Oikawa gave in and decided to meet him at the café. 

He was tentative, albeit a little too tentative as he showed up a little late, but he wanted to be there. Maybe. Part of him wanted to get the hell out of dodge, but another part of him wanted to get this over with. He wanted to settle this and move on with his life.

Or not.

His stomach dropped when he laid eyes on Iwaizumi. He was ever the handsome boy, back when he last saw him during high school. Now manliness has descended on his features, and Oikawa couldn’t handle the transition. His shoulders looked wider, his arms look stronger, and the scruff that never grew in high school, speckled his face. He thumbed his phone in an anxious beat to which his foot kept time, head swiveling at times to scan the room.

Time had slowed for what seemed like years for Oikawa, as half a decade worth of missed time caught up with him. For him, seeing his childhood friend and the steamy subject of his life’s worst heartbreak was like being hit by a train. Throat in his stomach, Oikawa turned to walk away on his heart’s whim. He didn’t feel strong enough for this right now, and the otherworldly line that tethered him to his bed tugged on him hard. With just one look, his courage and social timer hit low capacity. And a soft calling of his name certainly didn’t make it any easier to stay.

“Please,” Iwaizumi softly pleaded, “just a few minutes of your time, that’s all I need.”

Oikawa swallowed the thick lump in his throat and steeled himself for eye contact with the man who replaced the down-to-earth boy he once knew.

“How did you know where to find me?”

They sat in a dimly lit booth, and Oikawa found himself thinking about what Tokyo’s electricity budget must be if no restaurant could afford decent lighting.

“I saw the logo on the folder you were holding and figured you might work there. Turns out I was right. Forgive me, what is your name?”

The former model sported a disgrace of a face in what he would only describe as utter confusion in the chance he were spotted and interviewed. 

“Really, Iwa? What game are you playing at?”

“So you do know me then? Please just tell me your full name. I can only remember Tooru when I look at you. I got in a car accident a year and a half ago and lost all my memories.”

Oikawa thought that in that moment, nothing could be worse than this. Now he is left to deal with everything that happened all on his own. There’s nobody he could possibly unload this burden onto because no one else understood like Iwaizumi did, and now that’s not even possible. It was selfish, he knew it, but he wanted to change—to get better. He needed closure for that, he needed reconciliation for that, and now he’d never get it.

“My name is Oikawa Tooru,” he breathed through the shaky breaths that left his lips. “I’ve known you nearly since I was born.”

“So we’ve been friends all of our lives?”

“I suppose that means your parents didn’t tell you.”

“They were in the car with me.”

It was a mental double take, but a double take nonetheless. Oikawa swore the ache in his chest couldn’t swell any more than it already had, but as time would prove, there's always more pain to go around.

Iwaizumi was driving his parents back home after they came back to Tokyo for a visit. A drunk driver rounded the corner in the wrong lane. His parents were dead on impact and Iwaizumi survived thanks to the airbag, but he was in a coma. Months later, he woke up with a severe head injury and amnesia. It took him a year to come out of that coma, and as Iwaizumi would reveal, his life ended all the same. 

“I’ve had to do rehabilitation for my spinal and head injury ever since I woke up. They tried finding someone else to contact but nothing turned up. Until now.”

Iwaizumi was as sullen as one can be when talking about a car accident with two bodies and three lives to its name. But there was excitement in his eyes at the end—a little glimmer of hope.

“I suppose it can’t be too lonely now, though, what with a girlfriend and all..”

Oikawa knew he sounded bitter, but he had never prided himself on being courteous. He wanted nothing more than for Iwaizumi to be happy, but it was never lost on him that he had nothing to do with it. It made for a bad mood, and Oikawa was never good at hiding his moods, either.

“Girlfriend? I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean? I saw you with her a few months back when I lived up North—long brown hair, the big eyes, fair skin?”

“Oh, you mean Naomi?” 

He drew in a loose breath and chuckled. The deep ring of laughter in his throat cut off air flow in Oikawa’s lungs. This wasn’t fair in any way. Iwaizumi was here, a man now. Deep baritone vocals and week-old stubble showed for the aging and it left him hypersensitive about it. If Oikawa had ever thought Iwaizumi was eye candy, then he was something of a god at this point.

“She’s my physical therapist. I mentioned I liked the snow and she suggested doing some therapeutic skiing.”

Against his will, the light brunet let a sigh of relief escape his chest before he could prevent it. 

“It explains a lot though—no wonder I thought she was really pretty.”

Oikawa was pulled from his distracted thoughts before he could self-destruct. 

“She looks just like you.”

Under the intense gaze of Iwaizumi, Oikawa squirmed helplessly. The larger of the two men was wading into dangerous waters, and Oikawa was finding himself caught up in the surf, as he has so many times before. The flooding tide came full force, spilling over onto the hands that shakily held his cup of coffee.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi stammered, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think you were straight, I—”

“It’s not that, I promise. It’s just that the last time you said that to me, you—”

The storm had descended full force now. Oikawa could no longer calm the raging waves that surfed through his veins, erasing all trace of the adrenaline that Iwaizumi had arose in him. The overcast skies were black now and the flashes of lightning that lit the skies for split seconds were the fuel in his body, the guidance he needed to escape the darkness. 

“I need to go.”

“Wait! When will I see you again?”

Oikawa paused at the door briefly, hesitant to spare a glance back, lest his resolve dissipate.

“Next week… same time..”

Iwaizumi was left in the poorly lit restaurant with more questions than he had answers. And all he could do was wait.


	6. IH+OT

Oikawa needed to vent and quickly. The meet (and greet) with Iwaizumi did not go any possible way that he had wanted. In fact, it was a fucking shitshow. Luckily, Ushijima was perfect for the role. He made tea while Oikawa prattled on about the night.

“So he doesn’t remember you at all? Not a single thing about you?”

“Not a single thing.”

“Maybe this is a good thing?” Ushijima tried for a positive perspective but didn’t get very far. It was a long shot after all. How could anything about this be a good thing?

“God, you should have seen him—all muscle and tan skin. And his voice—ugh—it was very hard for me to concentrate.”

Ushijima rose an eyebrow and smirked.

“And he said I was pretty. I mean not directly, but he definitely called me pretty. At least I think so, as far as I could tell—”

“Sounds like the meeting was a blast,” Ushijima teased.

“Don’t laugh, this is a big deal to me. The last time I saw him, he was storming out of my room all angry and stuff.”

“Well, what did you say to him?”

At this point, Ushijima was so intrigued in the topic that he had joined Oikawa on the couch, with his head perched in his open palm, knees tucked to his chest. They looked like two gossiping housewives.

“I said that he’d only get hurt if he stayed with me, that I wasn’t good enough for him. I guess he took it as me breaking up with him. I was only trying to warn him what he was getting himself into.”

“Just some advice, don’t go saying that again.”

“Well damn, just where did you pull that wisdom out of, dear friend? Your ass? Yeah, no shit I won’t say that again. I was young and just started modeling. I didn’t have a drinking problem yet and I didn’t have to sleep with anyone at that point. It’s just the way the designers and photographers would look at me, and then my manager gave them free reign to touch me and—”

“He what?”

Ushijima had set down his tea to wring his hands together. It was all rather disturbing and keeping his cool was difficult despite his infamously calm demeanor.

“They never assaulted me or anything, they would just touch and grab me as they pleased. I felt dirty coming home to Iwa every day after they groped at me. And I was too ashamed to tell him. We had only just started dating. What was I supposed to say?”

“The truth. I’ve known him all these years just the same as you. We were never close, but you literally told me everything there is to know about him. He wouldn’t push you away because of a situation you couldn’t control.”

Oikawa knew Ushijima was right and it pained him that it took him this long to come to terms with it. This day of reckoning was a bitter pill to swallow but he supposed it was better late than never.

“I’m gonna see him again. Next week.”

“Good. It’s never too late to set things right.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think I’ll be setting right. Iwa doesn’t remember anything.”

“Don’t trust it. Kai got so angry with me for mixing the brights with the whites last year when I was doing laundry and sometimes she gives me a look when I’m doing the laundry—that’s how I know. She still knows.”

Oikawa doubted Ushijima’s laundry problems were any comparison to his great fuck-up but the look on his friend’s face told him that this was a real predicament for him. It also told him that Manako was a force to be reckoned with, heeling such an intimidating man to fear. It sent shivers down both of their spines, and at the moment Oikawa swore away any intent to marry for the next decade.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had fretted over this meeting since the moment he left the last one. Everything, down to a tee, was planned; his outfit, his light makeup, and every last brown curl was a decision to be made and a final order to be executed. The final result was someone who looked like he was ready to make ill-informed decisions. He looked as though he had no clue what he was doing because he felt like he had no idea what he was doing.

They left the diner this time, meandering through the shopping district and sauntering through parks. The former model had a striking realization the moment they stood up from the table in the diner: Iwaizumi had grown taller than Oikawa. It was only a few inches, but still, Oikawa was no longer the tall one. He avoided mentioning it because now just didn’t feel like the right time to bring it up. He needed as structured as a conversation as he could get. Their talk needed predictable topics.

Oikawa played everything by ear, careful not to reveal too much to Iwaizumi. He asked about his childhood? Easy--Oikawa told him about their seemingly endless summers chasing bugs in the gardens and eating snacks when the sun set low. He asked about school? Harmless—Oikawa told him about their tough winter academics trapped in classrooms until they were free to lose themselves in volleyball. He asked about their friendship? Well, now Oikawa had to tiptoe.

“We were really close friends. I told you everything and you would call me some rude nickname like trashykawa, insult me, and then give me better advice than anyone else.”

“I was mean to you?”

“Oh all the time. Your headlocks were vicious, and your tongue even more so. Can’t remember a single conversation that didn’t start and end with my good name being dragged through the dirt.”

Oikawa chuckled, recalling the playful times of his high school days. He missed Iwaizumi’s harsh nature sometimes, because as difficult as it was to get a decent conversation out of him, he was as honest as they come. Oikawa never once doubted Iwaizumi.

“I’m so sorry that I did that to you.”

Iwaizumi sported a look of hurt, clearly pained by hearing about what a dick he could be. Oikawa, ever privy to the true nature of his longtime friend, broke into a fit of laughter. It felt good, to feel all his nervousness and uncertainty bubble to the surface and melt into the atmosphere like cotton candy on his tongue. The laughter had a sweet aftertaste to it, leaving Oikawa yearning for more. 

“Oh god, if only high school Iwa could hear you now.”

“Were we ever together?”

Oikawa’s giddiness turned to ashes in his mouth. He had been sandbagged by Iwaizumi’s question because he had left the door open. If only he had been more careful when tiptoeing.

“No,” Oikawa outright lied. His lack of filter was going to come back and bite him in the ass one day, and it’s not a matter of if, but of when.

“Oh, okay. Was I with anyone else?”

“If you were, you didn’t tell me.”

Oikawa let Iwaizumi lead the walk, shamefully lacking attention where it was due. They were in a bar now, and it was only when Iwaizumi led him to the counter did realization set in for the recovering alcoholic. Iwaizumi order a whiskey neat and Oikawa tentatively sat beside him.

“Would you like anything? It’s on me.”

The ash in his mouth caked his throat. No words came to him, and the best he could manage was a shake of his head. He was stronger now, but the urge to drink still toyed with him in times of heightened emotions. 

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi down his drink as he flipped his three month chip in his jacket pocket. 

“I’m sorry, I should have asked if you drank before coming in here. Work was a bit heavy today and I partake sometimes to take the edge off.”

“it’s fine.. I-I used to drink,” Oikawa trailed off softly, hesitant to tell Iwaizumi about his affliction. What would he think of him after finding out he abused the bottle for years?

Slowly, Oikawa pulled his chip from his pocket and set it down on the bar counter, hands retreating back to his jacket pockets. Comprehension etched into Iwaizumi’s features, he placed a bill on the counter and ushered the both of them out of the bar, back towards the diner.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea. How long have you been sober?”

“About three months..” 

Oikawa felt like a degenerate, with his regrettable sin now laid bare for Iwaizumi to see. He hadn’t said anything else and so the tension began to build. Well now he had fucked up any chance he might have had for a do-over.

“Come, there’s something I want to show you.”

The jaded man followed Iwaizumi to a waterfront path. They ducked beneath low hanging branches, and wove through shrubbery and foliage, emerging in a tucked away plot of land on the other side of a large bridge. It seemed oddly familiar to Oikawa but he couldn’t quite place his finger on anything.

“When I first woke up and couldn’t remember anything, I took long walks along this path and my feet would always carry me here. I would sit on that log there or I would skip rocks.”

Oikawa listened to Iwaizumi talk, his conscience getting closer and closer to the missing piece of the puzzle. And then, all at once, it dawned him. Their first kiss was here.

“And every time, before I’d leave, I’d look at the carving in this tree and think about who might have done it.”

Iwaizumi ran his hands along a large heart carved into a massive tree trunk that encased two sets of initials. 

“I always thought it was funny, that my initials just happened to be carved here. I would make up stories about who did it—it would entertain me for an hours. But now, I think I know who put them here, ‘cause those are your initials there, next to mine.”

Every brick that Oikawa had carefully laid to build the walls that protected him all this time came crashing down and he was left with nowhere to hide.

“We were lovers once.”


	7. Time to Begin Anew

“You’re gonna be alright! Just breathe, we’re gonna get you out of there!”

Mind a blank slate, the man trapped inside the burning car struggled to make sense of the chaos engulfing his reality. The fire licked lightly at his face, threatening to expand its reach past the far side of the car. He coughed up the smoke he inhaled as panic began to set in. The car was burning. He was trapped and the car was burning with him in it. How had this happened? What was going on? His parents—where were they? He looked around, or tried to at least. The man found himself restricted by a neck brace that first responders had latched around his neck.

“Don’t move your head! The car hit on your side and you hit your head pretty hard! We’re removing the door right now! Hold on just a little longer!”

The first responder had a hard time yelling over the raging flames and organized orchestra of sirens and metal grinding on metal. 

“My.. My pa-rents..”

“Let us worry about them! Come on, let’s get you to the hospital!”

The team pulled him from the car and transported him to the ambulance, letting the EMT’s continue the dance with death. An IV here, and some water there, and soon red faded to black.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

When he awoke, it was in the sterile white room of a hospital. There were two chairs along the wall to his left, underneath a curtained window. On the wall in front of him hung a pale painting of an assortment of fruit. There were people coming and going and this ultimately served to heighten his confusion. Where was he? Why was he here? He couldn’t put his finger on a single thing he was sure he knew.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, a man back from the dead. How are you feeling?”

“Where am I? What happened?”

The doctor set his clipboard aside to take a seat in the office chair next to Iwaizumi’s bed.

“You and your parents were in an accident. I’m sorry to inform you that neither of your parents survived the crash. My condolences.”

Confusion was evident in Iwaizumi’s now glistening eyes as tears paved paths down his red cheeks.

“I’ll have my nurse give you something for the pain. In the me-“

“I don’t remember anything. I—I had parents? I can’t recall their faces. What-- what is going on?”

The doctor now looked upon his patient gravely. Sure, he knew that amnesia was a side effect of severe head or spinal injuries, but the CT scan didn’t show any such patterns that suggest this might become a problem for his patient. He called for a nurse to run some tests and continued to prod his patient for more information.

“What’s the last thing you do remember? Or the earliest thing that you remember, if you will?”

“Waking up here.”

“Before your surgery, you told me your name and address. You don’t remember that?”

“No, I can’t remember anything.”

It was barely coherent through the tears and heavy panic in his voice. He was starting to hyperventilate; they talked him through it and then sedated him. As his eyes closed, Iwaizumi briefly wondered if he were dead after all, and this was the afterlife.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“Did I wake you?”

A soft voice spoke to him from the chair to his right. The voice came from a woman illuminated by the light coming from the window from which the curtains had been drawn back. She had long brown hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, and a purple scrub uniform different from the other nurses only in color. 

She stood up from the chair and walked to his bed side, helping him sit up.

“My name is Hanami Nao, but you can just call me Naomi. Nao is such a manly name, after all, hm?”

She was sweet and her smile matched the flowery perfume that followed her. Iwaizumi tried to open his mouth to respond but coughed instead, his throat hurting something fierce. 

“Oh it’s okay, I know your name. the doctor told me you’d have troubles speaking as the burns in your throat heal. You inhaled quite a bit of fire and smoke.

I’m the physical therapist assigned to your case. Your spine suffered quite a bit underneath the tons of metal you were trapped beneath after the initial crash. It’ll take a while, but you’ll recover from it.”

She stood up from his bedside and placed her card next to a cell phone on the tray that extended from his bed frame. 

“We will start tomorrow. If you ever need anything, my number is on the card there. The phone there is yours. It was ejected through the windshield but it landed in the grass.”

She left the room and Iwaizumi was left to sit with the reality of his life now. He had no clue what day it was or really even who he was. He knew the names of all the objects he could see and he knew how to speak to others still so he figured there should be more to his life. He briefly glanced over at the cell phone and recognition set in. This cell phone—it carried a lot of information about the man named Iwaizumi Hajime. Pictures, music, contacts—this could be his chance to recover his memories.

His hope was soundly defeated when the black screen lit up only to beckon for a password about which he hadn’t the faintest clue. He huffed and laid back against the bed. That stupid fruit painting mocked him from the other end of the room. It had a place and a reason and he was lost. Whoever he was—where did he belong? Was there someone out there who is waiting for him to come home? He toiled endlessly in his mind, dredging up nothing to every question he asked himself. 

Where did he go from here?


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has a dog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> It's a little slow going, now that I read over it, but I think it's a good start for an exponential escalation. I wanted to place some emphasis on his uncertainty in every move he makes.
> 
> Next chapter: Iwa and Tooru meet, this time from Iwa's perspective.

It was a boring four weeks in the hospital before they discharged him. The physical therapist worked with him while he regained the ability to walk without immense pain. His legs worked just fine, it’s just that it took a while for his body to forget the pain of his crash. His back was always on fire and his hips were constantly in a limbo state between relaxation and feeling like they needed to pop. It was terribly annoying for Iwaizumi but he supposed he should be thankful his injuries weren’t more severe.

Naomi encouraged him to move as often as possible and he did as she suggested. Between staying in that cramped hospital room and walking about, the choice wasn’t very hard. 

He loved to walk the trails that wound around the back of the hospital property. They connected to the pathways that hugged the sides of the river that meandered nearby. He would soon discover that the feeling of something familiar would tug on him, making him feel like he was walking through molasses. He couldn’t put a word to the feeling, but he felt as though getting through to the other side would surely help him remember.

So he followed the pathways as far as they took him and his final destination was a little cove tucked away from the public eye. It was there that he ran his hands along the deep brown bark of the washed up log. It was there that he felt some peace or some sort of internal balance. He felt deep in his bones that he had been here before. Iwaizumi sincerely hoped that he had because it was beautiful here and he liked to believe that his former life was full of it.

Iwaizumi picked up a rock and skipped it along the river’s calm surface. It was still early morning and the crowning light played lightly along the water as the birds sang a composition that rang proudly. He found happiness admiring the beauty of nature and was grateful he got the chance to do it alone. Even if his memories return, he felt as though he’d still have a chance to fill his head with memories that were every bit as beautiful as his new haven.

When he turned to leave, the deep indention of initials carved into a tree behind the water-bogged log caught his eye. There in old wood were the letters “IH+OT” surrounded by a poorly etched heart. He chuckled to himself, making a small note of the coincidence that IH were his initials, too. It seems as though this is not only his haven but one for others, whoever they are. It was with some serenity that he parted the cove and it was with eagerness that he continued to return each morning, even long after his stay at the hospital.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Were his hands always this shaky? Iwaizumi couldn’t tell what was normal and what wasn’t.

He stood in front of an apartment door with his name on the plaque. In the beginning of his time at the hospital, he had been hopeful that he wasn’t alone. Day in and day out, his faith in the unknown dissipated when not a single soul stepped through the door frame of the white room. He had wanted to be wanted so desperately that it hurt. At night, he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t alone in this world—that there was someone out there that knew him and would be there for him.

The recovering man was met with the numbing reality of his loneliness when the key successfully opened the lock to his door only to reveal silent hallways and dark fixtures. The lights flickered on at the flip of the switch underneath a key ring to the right of the door.

There were a few pictures framed on the walls but for the most part, the apartment lacked personality. He examined its contents, running his hands along the partially dusty countertops. No memory returned to him despite the ghost of his prior life roaming the halls. 

For Iwaizumi, there was no comfort to be found in the bed his former self slept in. After all, even he had abandoned Iwaizumi. Helplessness seeped from his aching muscles and the pores of his skin, descending on him. His body felt heavy and the world around him was spinning. A knock at the door brought him back to the empty and quiet apartment.

“Iwaizumi, dear, is that you?”

He arose from the couch and made for the door where a small old woman peaked her head in.

“Oh it is you! How are you doing, dear? I heard about your accident. I’ve been taking care of Yara ever since—she misses you a great deal!”

A mass of fluff burst through the door and tackled him to the ground. Relentless kisses painted his face with the saliva of a German Shephard—his German Shephard from the looks of it. While touring his supposed home, he never saw a dog bed. Maybe she sleeps on the couches?

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything. Who are you?”

The old woman raised a hand to her heart and clicked her tongue.

“That’s such a shame. I’ve lived across the hall from you since you moved in seven years ago! You can just call me grandmother Chifuyu.”

She was a delightful old woman, as Iwaizumi came to learn. Widowed in her seventies, she struggled to keep up with her apartment at times and it seemed as though Iwaizumi helped her do the repairs as a thanks for all the meals she would bring over. Tonight, she also made dinner and told him everything she knew about the man named Iwaizumi Hajime. It was a bit hard to listen to her tell him so much about the person he was supposed to be, as he yearned to know that much about himself. Still, he gladly accepted all she had to offer.

He learned that he is a photojournalist and works for a local newspaper. Sometimes, when he’d travel for his work, he’d bring back gifts for the older woman. Where he went, he couldn’t remember, but Chifuyu offered to bring over some of the souvenirs for him to look at. 

Apparently he was a local, born and raised right here in Tokyo. He thought this might be the reason that the waterfront felt familiar. Did he walk his dog there? Or maybe he walked the path with someone else?

She knew little else about him, but he could tell by the tone and softness of her voice that she loved him very much. Like her own grandson, he believed was the correct phrasing. 

That night, in a strange home, he got to meet his dog Yara all over again. She was energetic and as time would reveal, obedient. The only time she wasn’t at his side was when she was told to stay. Iwaizumi ran his fingers through the knots in her fur, falling asleep to the sweet smell of her shampoo. 

His home was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It was just unknown. This home and this dog were all he had left of his previous life and he supposed it was good of a place as any to start again.


	9. Who am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally, we're all caught up. We know Oikawa's story, and we know Iwaizumi's story.
> 
> How will things unfold from here?

“Good, good, one more set and then we’re done for the day.”

It had been nearly eight months since his crash and his every day routine fell into place rather quickly. Wake up, PT, work, some more PT, and then the same the next day. He was still without his memories but his new life wasn’t built around the despair of that reality. His only friends were old lady Chifuyu, Yara, and his physical therapist.

“Good work today, Iwaizumi.”

Naomi was writing some notes on her clipboard as Iwaizumi wiped the sweat from his brow. His body was stronger now, though it was quite strong even before the crash. His muscles were significantly developed which made for an easier transition to PT. He must have worked out quite a lot before the crash. 

As he gathered his things, he could feel Naomi’s eyes watching him. He took a swig from his water bottle and said his goodbyes.

Truth is, she had tried to make a move on him two months prior but he turned her down. She was a beautiful woman, and if you asked Iwaizumi he would agree. Long brown hair, and gorgeous honey pools for eyes. Her skin was flawless and she was a kind woman but when she tried to kiss him, he felt guilty. Instinctively, he pushed her off. There was something in his mind screaming that this was wrong. He knew in that moment that his heart was being kept for another. 

It was a triumphant moment for him. Eight months with not a hint about his life before the crash and now he was sure that he indeed did have someone to return to. Nothing made more sense to him than to walk to his secret cove. The initials he had told himself so many stories about took on a new meaning—they were his initials. Not his handwriting, but his initials. He desperately wanted to know to whom the other letters belonged. 

Then he saw him. He saw him and from the deepest reaches of his being, the name Tooru slipped from his mouth. 

The city was bustling at this time of the day, but the noise muted and their movements slowed as the slightly shorter man turned around. He was, Iwaizumi thought, simply the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on. The soft brown curls that seemed to dance in the city wind framed his oval face. Oh how he’d love to feel those tresses on the pads of his fingers. This unceasing, mighty craving for the man that stood in front of him scared him. From where had his name came flying out? Why can’t he remember anything else about this man—this man who left him breathless within mere moments of meeting him?

Iwaizumi was absolutely sure that he knew this man named Tooru. 

Iwaizumi was absolutely sure that he loves this man named Tooru.  
“Wait! Do I know you? Were we friends?”

Without warning, the man took off in the opposite direction leaving the taller to sputter in his wake. He recognized the logo on the folder that the man was carrying and hurried towards the building. He couldn’t let this chance slip by him. Iwaizumi needed to talk to him and he had no other clues than that folder. Maybe he didn’t work there and was just a customer, or maybe he did work there—either way, this place was his only lead to the old Iwaizumi.

It was just a few blocks away from his apartment and he remembers passing by it on his way to work. It was a smaller building than its neighbors but it was much homier. The staff were friendly and the receptionist was kind enough to help him with his small request. The man he was looking for wasn’t there but she told him he was welcome to leave a note. 

And so he did, on that day and the few days after it. Just as Iwaizumi thought he’d never get through to him, the mystery man himself walked through the doors of the diner. If Iwaizumi didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looked skittish, as though he’d be scared off at the smallest of things. The brunet had made it maybe ten feet into the restaurant before turning on his heels to walk out.

“Just a few minutes of your time, that’s all I need,” Iwaizumi pleaded with the man, “please.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

The first meeting went about as well as could be expected. The man named Oikawa Tooru looked like a deer in headlights 98% of the time and the only time his facial expression changed was when he cried after Iwaizumi complimented him. He had his suspicions about their relationship, but this fact confused him. If they were romantically involved, why would a compliment sadden him so much?

The second meeting went worlds better until Iwaizumi made the stupid mistake of leading Oikawa into a bar only to find out he was a recovering alcoholic. As if it might somehow make up for his wrongdoing, he got the striking idea to take the slightly shorter man to his favorite cove by the water. It was only when they arrived at the cove and laid his eyes on the tree that he made the connection between the initials and the man standing before him.

Iwaizumi supposed that he had no other choice but to confront him about their relationship. After all, Oikawa was not the one who lost his memories of their prior interactions. If those were indeed his initials carved into the tree, then the light brunet would know the significance of this place; and Iwaizumi was tired of making up stories. He was tired of telling himself fabrications and tales about what he thinks his life might be like. He wanted to hear it now from someone who knew him.

And who knows Iwaizumi Hajime better than Oikawa Tooru?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I apologize for how stoic Iwaizumi's account of things is written. I was trying to represent their personalities through the style of writing I used for their perspective. 
> 
> Oikawa is a dramatic, poetic man-- I tried to use a lot of descriptors and metaphors because he is a flamboyant man. He wouldn't want his story told in such a boring way ;)
> 
> Iwaizumi, though, is a straightforward, "get on with it," kind of man. I wanted to get straight to the point about his feelings and the events without all the extra finery. 
> 
> I hope this was a good choice to make, because I felt as though it could be a unique part to the story! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!!


	10. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa fills in the holes of their relationship for Iwaizumi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is a bit shorter than what I usually post but it's finals week and my brain is about to implode.

Sitting by the waterfront on the old log, they talked through the fading sun all the way to emerging light. Iwaizumi listened as Oikawa filled in the holes of their childhood days. 

In grade school, they couldn’t be separated regardless of the circumstances. Together they ran amok, hand-in-hand, wreaking clever havoc down school hallways and through backyards. Sleepovers were abundant during these years, and it was nearly every night they fell asleep in pillow forts telling each other scary stories. Where one went, so did the other.

In junior high, their time spent together increased as volleyball established itself firmly in their lives. Catching bugs down by the creek was replaced by hours of relentless passing and tossing. Their time playing volleyball made up for the lack of shared nights during these years. Before middle school ended, they were both completely invested in not only the sport but their partnership on the court. 

In high school, sleepovers returned when extra tossing practice gave rise to an entirely new adrenaline, accidental touches fanning the flames of their youth. Within a year, the intensity of their partnership on the court entered a whole new phase, carrying their partnership off the court. In these years, they enjoyed the simple presence of each other during lazy mornings. Nothing could separate them, just as it had always been.

After high school, they lived together briefly during their first attempt at college. Modeling seemed to welcome Oikawa in a way that college did not, making the transition easier. Iwaizumi continued on with his general education classes. The last time they saw each other, their paths had just diverged, despite sharing a home. Even now, Oikawa had so many questions for Iwaizumi about schooling and his life in general—questions he’d never be able to ask now.

Iwaizumi had been meaningfully silent as he processed each word Oikawa laid out for him. There were so many intricacies to their relationship and significant moments they spent years relishing between themselves. Each detail revealed served to shed light on the immense and overwhelming feelings Iwaizumi harbored. Pieces to the puzzle were sliding into place. Now the only thing missing were his memories of their lifelong relationship.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

Eyes downcast, Oikawa searched himself for the right words to say. He knew he was just being selfish by hiding the truth the whole time, but he was scared of what Iwaizumi might think. How was Oikawa going to live with himself now that he ruined their connection not once, but twice?

“Our fight was my fault. I didn’t want you to hate me even more.”

Iwaizumi wanted to challenge his statement, but how could he? He had no recollection of the events so who was he to assert his opinion as though it were fact when he couldn’t be sure? 

“The person I was before is gone. I can’t speak for him, but I can tell you that I don’t hate you. I can see why you’d hold back.”

Iwaizumi stood up and yawned in the early morning light. 

“But even if I’m no longer that person, I’m not going to give up on you.”

He genuinely meant what he said but he knew in his heart he wasn’t just doing this for Oikawa, but also for himself. There’s not a single person on the planet who could tell him more about himself than Oikawa Tooru. In his mind, interaction with Oikawa would surely lead to a recovery of his memories. After all, he put a name to the feeling that took up residence in his chest when they first met. It’s love, and now he knows it. Maybe their relationship was always meant to be repaired? Or maybe they were meant to start anew now?

“Are you sure?”

Oikawa was incessant with his questions because he didn’t want to pressure Iwaizumi into doing anything he had no desire to do. With the single extension of his arm, Iwaizumi confirmed his intentions. Oikawa timidly laced his fingers with Iwaizumi’s and followed his lead. If anything, he could at least allow Iwaizumi to set the pace.

It had been a rough start, but now Oikawa had a chance to reconcile his feelings. He may never get closure from the Iwaizumi he has known all this time, but the clean slate was welcome, too. Oikawa wanted their friendship to be just as strong as it was before, and hoped that in time, maybe the love of his life would regain his memories. He didn’t dare think about the what-ifs because they would only serve to destroy the tiny bit of optimism still viable deep within him. 

Oikawa has a second chance now, and he’s determined not to let it go to waste.


End file.
